


The Warning

by pommenoire (pommedeplume)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Experimental Style, F/M, M/M, Paranoia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2019-08-22 10:32:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16596167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pommedeplume/pseuds/pommenoire
Summary: Draco Malfoy must warn Harry Potter before it's too late.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer:
> 
> This work is experimental. Think of it as a writing exercise I'm choosing to share with you. It's not something plotted out or that I'm working hard on but rather something I'm doing to polish my skills. Chapters will be short, erratic and of wildly varying quality and style, though it will be a single continuity with an ongoing story.
> 
> I'm posting it on a second pseud that I've created for works that are too weird, dark or experimental for my main one. Just a way of making a heads up that this isn't my usual thing.
> 
> With that in mind, feel free to read and leave feedback if you wish. Just keep in mind that in this one case it's something I'm doing not to entertain but to stretch my writing muscles.

_November 11, 2018_

 

The whispers are maddening. If they don’t stop Draco suspects he will collapse. Shoes squeak as he shifts his way through the crowd, searching for Harry Potter. The warning must be given. A hand touches Draco’s shoulder. It’s Pansy. There is an exchange of words, her dark-red lips making tantalising promises into his ear. Released, he continues to cut across the room. No other hands hinder his journey.

The one for whom he searches alludes discovery, being either missing or recently departed. Grey eyes frantically hunt, finding nothing as the performance ends, dispersing the crowd. Only Pansy remains behind, waiting for him. With a wink, she beckons him. A half hour later they are in her bed, naked and craving. It was easy to disappear in the pleasures of the flesh, especially when you no longer love the other person. Thoughts stay fixed on Harry Potter and the message he needs to give, not of the dull but alluring woman moaning his name.

Dark-red lips tell him how good he is, but he knows that without being told. The truth is, he doesn’t care what she thinks and hasn’t in years. Eternally a generous lover, he brings her to enough climaxes for euphoria to bring her to rest. Once she’s deep asleep, he’s gone.

The apartment number where Potter lives is still on his phone, having received it before everything went dark. In the past he imagined his dreams could be a reality. Now conspiracies and regret are what feeds him, keeping him going when nothing else will. No one answers when he knocks. It is possible he is too late. Time passes as he waits, sitting next to the door. The other occupants of this building barely try to avoid bumping into him as they walk by his feet. It is as if he no longer exists.

When it’s obvious Potter will never show up, Draco gives up, heading back out into the night. It doesn’t take long before he suspects he is being followed. By whom, he can’t be sure. There is always someone following him, however distantly. If they know he was coming to warn Potter his life may be in jeopardy.

Popping into a pub, he relaxes onto a barstool, ordering a pint. The man chasing him sits at the other end of the bar, getting a drink that soon remains untouched. Texts have been piling up on Draco’s phone. Everything is spiralling out of control, leaving Draco feeling powerless. If Potter dies, he will be to blame.

The beer goes straight to Draco’s bladder, so he heads to the restroom, hoping to lose his tail. There’s a high window against the northern wall. It’s small but Draco thinks he will be able to squeeze through it. The door handle rattles, unable to open because Draco locked it. Hands grip the windowsill after several unsuccessful jumps that a shorter man couldn’t have managed. With as much strength as he can muster, Draco pulls himself up. The banging on the door intensifies, and he knows they will soon break through into the restroom. Sounds of the door bursting open echo just as his feet slip through the window, finding himself in a dark and damp alley.

With eyes half closed he runs through the night. It’s raining, and he shivers as his heart slams in his chest. If only he could warn Potter. A decision is made in an instant to return to Potter’s apartment. Fear feeds the speed of his feet, running as much of the way back as possible, never doubting he’s being followed. There are footsteps moving up the stairs below as he pounds on Potter’s door. They will be here soon, he tells himself.

The door opens and Draco forgets how to speak. Words are muttered by Potter and Draco can’t make his mouth move. Footsteps grow closer and Draco pleads for Harry to let him. Once inside, Draco peers out the peephole. A man stands calmly and resolute at the doorstep, the one Draco had left at the bar. It didn’t seem possible for him to have caught up so fast.

It’s not long before Draco spills everything he’s got. A disbelieving face hears, not submitting to the horror. A yawn and Potter offers Draco his sofa, seeming to sense his fear. The man may wait until morning and Draco isn’t sure he any more prepared to deal with him. Beckoned for illumination, Draco relates his story to Harry, from beginning to the painful end. And then he gives him the warning. The colour drains from Potter’s face and Draco knows that the warning’s successful.

An hour passes as they discuss plans. Survival is priority number one though, the truth is Draco believes he will soon be dead. A secret like this one cannot be spoken aloud without consequences. The conversation lasts for hours before they finally relent and sleep comes, needed but unwanted.

Smoke awakes Draco in the early hours of the morning. Fire surrounds them. Escape doesn’t seem to be a valid choice but Harry is not afraid. The man remains before the door with a sick smile on his face and hands folded in front of him as if he already knows he’s won. The end seems to be at hand and Draco is frozen, unsure of his next move. Without an ounce of fear in his eyes, Harry opens the door, shoving the man aside as he and Draco race down the stairs.

A multitude of figures now chase after them through the morning fog, making Draco feel like the entire world is on fire. Soon it may very well be. There is nowhere they can go that is wholly safe. Danger surrounds them. Impulsively, Draco suggests Pansy. They are let in by her. Loyalty is something Pansy has always given Draco. Even if she did betray Harry, she would not betray Draco, and that’s enough reassurance for them to rest soundly.

Still, they cannot tell Pansy everything, if only for her own safety though, the thought occurs to Draco she might be working with  _them_. An agreement between Draco and Harry is reached at to catch a train out of town. There‘s a futility in this means of escape but they would seem to have no superior alternatives. The departure is sudden, Pansy being given nothing other than an insincere kiss from Draco. It’s possible she might follow them but Draco accepts that he can’t control everything.

On the train, Harry and Draco sit together in tense silence. If they eluded their tails, they will be safe for a while. If they didn’t, then Draco knows they may not make it to their destination alive.


	2. Chapter 2

_August 8, 2019_

 

I’ve been following you for months. You never should’ve trusted trust me. You couldn’t count on me not to follow you in my fear, leading them right to you. Though, it’s a pity. If you had trusted me, then none of this would have happened. 

No. That’s not fair, is it? I suppose I didn’t give you good reasons to trust me. I’d been acting shady. You thought I was getting caught up in that stupid apocalypse cult but it was nothing like that. I had affairs. I cheated. Maybe I did drugs sometimes and drank too often. I’m not a great person but I’m not evil.

Who am I kidding? Our relationship died years ago. You started traveling. We quit talking until the only form of communication between us was sweaty and naked. What little talking we did invariably became about him. I used to always joke with my friends that you either wanted to kill or screw him. Guess I was half right.

So I got on a goddamn train to chase after you and your new boyfriend. I was clueless to the fact that I was being tracked. They terrified me. I wanted to tell someone. Wished I had at least told Blaise or Millicent everything before I left. I screwed both of them. Did you know? I hope you did.

But no, I didn’t tell anybody. I bumped into Hermione Granger at the train station as she was getting off a train. She still hates me. That’s fair. I guess I don’t like her either. Still. I smiled at her. It was a pretend smile, but I still wished she had smiled back.

I found out where you both headed easily. I’ve always been good at getting my way. But I guess you’re aware of that. Either way, I took the right train. I arrived in that village, the sun still hanging in the sky. That’s when I spotted those bastards in suits.

Well, I’ve never been a complete fool. I needed to find you without risking bringing them to you. So I checked myself into an inn. It was the only vacancy, meaning those bastards couldn’t stay there. I’ve never slept so good in unfamiliar beds. That night was no exception. I worried they would barge into my room at any moment and I worried they’d find you and kill you before I found you.

I was lying in bed, flat on my back when something strange happened: your voice echoed from the other side of the wall. You were in the next goddamn room. I went over the wall, putting my ear against it, needing to be sure. You two were having an awful tense conversation. Arguing over your next move. And then things got soft and silent.

I wondered if you were fooling around or whatever. It was none of my business and it made me a hypocrite but I still worried. And then I heard the noises. The two of you doing whatever. I wasn’t mad or even upset. Maybe disappointed. I thought only I made you moan like that. But don’t worry, I only listened that one time.

It became calm again, and I considered knocking on your door. But no, I wouldn’t do that. Then they’d see where you were. So at the dawn, I left. But I didn’t go very far. I couldn’t stop myself. I should’ve led those bastards to the other side of the world away from you but I’ve never been able to control myself with you.

So I followed, keeping my distance. I tracked you all over Europe, you and your beautiful new boyfriend. You planted kisses on his throat while I hung back, trying to will myself not to watch. He gazed into your eyes, his hands on your cheeks, faces still close from a kiss. You seemed to exist in a bubble and nothing else existed outside that bubble. Not me, not men in suits. Just two men in love.

I’ll confess you were in my mind almost every night when I was alone in bed, searching for sweet relief. You both were. It’s stupid. I’m pathetic. I always have been. It’s how you make me feel.

It’s deep summer now and I’ve been thinking about losing you. I should let the men in suits catch me. I can tell them lies. Tell them I lost you in Spain. They’ll torture me. I’ll probably crack. I’m weak. But if I keep following you, I won’t be able to stop myself.

Another part of me suspects they know where you are and this game is bigger and more complex. I wish you would tell me what you want me to do. You always did in the past. That was how we liked it, remember? Of course, you do. How could you not?

I’m not sure what I will choose. If you get a knock at your door, you’ll know I chose poorly. I’m sorry. I miss you. I love you.


End file.
